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IN THE SHADOW 
OF THE ALAMO 

A GARLAND OF LYRICS FOR 
SAN ANTONIO'S BICENTENARY 

nineteen hundred and eighteen 

By 

PAUL A. LEWIS, O. M. I. 



COPYRIGHT 1S18 
BYPAUt_A. LEWIS 



SZL(^^ 



TO MY MOTHER 

When the stars are faintly glowing, 
When the vesper-bells have rung, 

Then to thee my thoughts are going, 
Then of thee my songs are sung. 



\f,m 12 1918 



©CI.A492o26 



SAN ANTONIO 



I know a sweet old Southern city 

Where quaint and pretty customs linger, 

And often when I di-eam of her 
I would 1 were a gifted singer. 

She holds the storied Alamo 

And pilgTims go to see tliat shrine 

-Where Texan liberty was bought 

And battles fought that deathless shine. 



'Tis there the silvery San Antone 
Has gently flown for centui'ies 

And sweetly mui-mui-s through the city 
A gay old ditty to the bi-eeze. 

There swarthy Mexican rancheros 
In tall sombreros gaily decked 

Pause at the corner-stalls to chat in 
Their dulcet Latin dialect. 



The four Fi-anciscan mission there 
Are kept with care — a legacy, 

Grand relics of a golden age, 
A priceless page from history. 



There mocking-birds with silver throats 
Pour liquid notes upon the air; 

Mid gai'dens rich with scent of roses 
My heart reposes, free from care. 



And oftentimes I have in mind 
To try and find a gifte<l singer 

Who'll sing of that old Southern city 

Where quaint and pi-etty customs linger. 




THE ALAMO 



THE ALAMO BY MOONLIGHT 



There in the marble whiteness of a slorious Southern 
niglit 

She stands, in clear relief against flie sky. 
Above her walls the Lone Star dances in tlie faii-j- light, 

Around her battlements the night-winds sigii. 



She is a silent sentinel keeping vigil o'er the town. 
Within her Fi-eedom's Spirit deathless dwells; 

Austere and gi-im upon the night lier war-scarred out- 
lines fi'own 
And every stone a hero's story tells. 

The moonbeams and the starshine gently kiss her stern 
old face 
And the silvery San Antonio murmurs low, 
And the Dixie breeze makes melody around the saci'ed 
place 
And tells the story of the Alamo. 




^s-^-^A^^-^^^ 



THE FIRST MISSION 



LA MISION CONCEPCION 



Long, long ago, unto this spot 
Where now the Mission stands. 
To light Faith's fire, the humble friar 
Came from far distant lands. 

The feathery huisache's green 
Sui'i'ounds the ancient stone, 
And up above the Spanish dove 
Mourns glories long since flown. 

The sandalled tread of ghostly feet 
Through arch and corridor 
Recalls the times when Mission chimes 
Called Indians to adore. 

And now once more within these walls 
The vesper-chant doth soar. 
The Mass is read, the Rosai-y said, 
K'en as in days of yore. 







THE SECOND MISSION 



THE MISSIONS 



Fair relics of a lialoed past. 
In solitude sublime, 
The i-uthless hand of time 

Has not yet made your glories fade 

And you may still upbraid 
The city's gi-ime. 

An old-world glamour o'er you cast, 
Gives to each separate stone 
A magic all its own"; 

O'er you the wild huisache's scent 

With roses' odor blent 
Is gently blown. 



Your storied ruins are crumbling fast. 

Empty eacli carven stall. 

While, nestling to each wall, 
The ivy's green against the gray. 
Around you shadows play 

And wild birds call. 

But if you fall, your fame will last. 
Though all your beauty's sped. 
Your spirit long since fled. 

Still ghostly monks will raise their chant, 

A low Requiescant! 
For years long dead. 






■i-^^ 







THE SILVERY SAN ANTONE 



Within a golden city's heart 
A slender silver libbon winds, 

E'en so our hearts it gently hinds 
And bids us never to depart. 

Amid the city's smoke and din 

It runs its winding course, 
Like Virtue in the haunts of sin 

It springs fi'oni purest source. 
Like V^irtue, too, with quiet flow 

It takes its way alone. 
And travelers pause to gaze upon 

The Silvery San Antone. 



About our souls it weaves a spell 
Nor time nor distance can efface; 

We would not if we could erase 

The magic channs that roimd it dwell. 

Upon its crystal bosom erst 

The redman sped his craft. 
While tlu'ough the leaves in glory burst 

Tlie sunlight's golden shaft. 
Today the ancient sti"eani flows on 

With beauty all its own 
Bewitching all who gaze upon 

The silvery San Antone. 




THE THIRD MISSION 



CITY OF MY DREAMS 



In the grand old State of Texas there's a city dear to me, 
For 'tis there I spent my happy hoyhood days. 

And 'tis thei-e 1 gi'ew to manhood, and 'tis there I hope 
to be 
When life's sun upon me casts its setting rays. 



Whene'er I'm far away from that dear City of my Dreams 
How I yearn, to tread those old familial- streets! 

And I almost see the gay-clad throng tliat through them 
ever streams. 
And its murmured speech my memory's heai-ing greets. 



How often have I wandered up and down tlie river's bank, 
And at nearby Mission i-uins stopped to rest 

And to drink the cool well-water, though I never thought 
to thank 
The friars of old who made the desert blest. 



There's a charm that clings forever to this City of my 
Dreams, 
And its quaint old scenes are graven in my heart. 
And I see it once again as 'neath the Southern moon it 
gleams 
For to me 'twill ever be a thing apart. 

And I think of it as hallowed with the gleam of bygone 
days 
When men lived lives of simple faith and love. 
Devoted, brave, undazzled by the glare of Mammon's 
blaze. 
And placed their souls' high hope in One above. 

All, sunny San Antonio, jour spell is on my heart, 
And I'll ever thuik of you as of my home. 

And whene'er I'm far away from you, unbidden tears 
will start. 
And draw nie to you, never more to roam. 



■* - ^"^^ 







THE FOURTH MISSION 



MEMORIES 



I>o you recall that eveniisg by the camp-fire 

When you and I lay at the door of our tent. 

And watched the pallid phantom moon climb high and 
ever higher. 
While the starlight came and went? 

Do you remember that sweet day in summer 
We rowed far out upon the dancing bay. 

Tar from the shore, and thouglit not of returning to oiu' 
camp 
Till feU the shadows gray? 



Have you forgot that walk we took by moonlight 
When we conversed of God and of our souls, 

Wliile overhead the south wind played a minor to our 
thoughts. 
And the great stars gleamed like coals? 

Ah, those are happy memories, old comrade. 
That all tlie dead years since cannot efface, 

And thougli success and gold should bring me scores of 
new-found friends. 
There's none could take your place. 



PATRIOTISM 



Thy native land gave life to thee — 

That lite thou must return; 

Thy native land gave love to thee — 

Thy love for her must bnrn; 

Thy native land gave fame to thee — 

Win back for her that fame; 

Thy native land gave wealth to tliee- 

Give her that wealth again. 



^p^i«lf:fepi»li»^ §my^ 



J happy. 

Your peril 

Ahyfleen 

Vi' mce were mine, batnow, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 649 323 3 



